


Flash

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24533806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis dodges reporters.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 30
Kudos: 250





	Flash

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He definitely should have let Ignis drive him to the store, or at least let Gladio tag along, but Noctis honestly thought that he could get himself a fresh cup of coffee without having the paparazzi breathing down his neck. He’d forgotten just how long it was since the last time he actually fetched that himself rather than just texting Ignis to bring it over. He’d text Ignis now even though it’s way too late and ask for a rescue, but he doesn’t want to risk whipping out his phone when he’s running at full speed. 

He swerves down a corner, turning so sharp that he actually has to put his hand out to catch himself from crashing to the pavement. Then he’s racing down the next block, shoving poor, innocent pedestrians out of the way and shouting a myriad of ‘sorry’s in his wake. He’s not a complete animal. He nearly barrels into a light post when he looks back long enough to see at least four reporters making the same turn. One trips over a postal box, which Noctis tries not to laugh at—one down, three to go. Except a car with the local news station’s logo stamped on the side pulls over and two more people with giant cameras hop out. It’s straight out of a horror film. He makes a mental note to actually listen to Ignis next time he’s told it’s been too long without a public appearance. Not that that extended absence at all excuses this level of thirst. He shouts over his shoulder, “For Six’s sake, I’m not that interesting!”

“Your Highness!” one of them clamours, swiftly followed by, “Is that an official statement?” and then, “What’s your opinion on your father’s recent announcement concerning health care reform?”

A crosswalk’s coming up, the light still on green, and Noctis has half a mind to bolt through anyway and end it all. 

Instead, he jerks to the left, spots a sandwich board with a syrupy drink on it, and bolts through the glass door so fast that the little bell above it hits the ceiling. The entire storefront’s all glass, meaning _they’ll see him_ , and Noctis’ head swivels around before he makes the split second decision to slide into the only booth not fully occupied. 

There’s a fold out menu on the table he snatches up and holds over his face, leaning into it, heart racing, panting like a dog on catnip. Assuming dogs can eat catnip. Ignis has never let him have a pet. 

Out the corner of his eye, he watches the reporters pile up at the light and swing madly around. He waits until every last one of them has taken off in a different direction before he finally risks lowering the menu and exhaling in relief.

Then he stiffens, because he forgot the booth wasn’t empty. Just empty _enough_ for him to slip in. 

The guy sitting across from him looks about his age, trim and blond with a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and a dazed look on his unreasonably attractive face. He blinks at Noctis with big blue eyes. A second menu full of small café food is clutched in his trembling hands. Noctis numbly realizes he’s holding the drink menu.

While red-hot embarrassment slowly permeates his entire body, Noctis mutters, “Uh... hi.”

“Hi,” the blond weakly returns. 

“Um, I... sorry. Look, I just needed to hide for a minute, I’m not a creep or anything, I swear...”

“Uh... sure... Your Highness...”

Noctis winces. It’s upsetting to think he can’t even blend in for five minutes. That, or he just happened to pick the table of a particularly well-informed citizen. At his grimace, the blond blushes hotly and splutters, “Sorry, I—”

“No, I’m sorry, I just don’t like being called that—”

“It’s okay—”

“Call me Noct?” Which makes him wince again, because that’s _so awkward_. He probably shouldn’t be dolling out nickname privileges to random dudes in cafes. 

The random dude squeaks, “Prompto.”

“What?”

“My name’s Prompto.”

“Oh. My name’s Noct.”

“I know...”

“Shit, I mean, of course you knew that already—” He’s such an idiot. It reminds him why he doesn’t go outside. It’s what he gets for growing up in the Citadel with only royal company and people on his father’s payroll. He has zero idea how to talk to normal human beings.

He’s always _wanted_ to know. Scratching the back of his head, Noctis tries to explain, “Sorry, uh... Prompto—” The blond quirks the first small smile of the afternoon, which catches Noctis’ breath for half a second before he rolls on, “I just wanted to get a drink—like, coffee, I’m not an alcoholic or anything, don’t tell anyone I was getting booze, because I wasn’t, and my dad would kill me—even though... I’m totally old enough... anyway, I was just gonna get a drink, but then as soon as I left my building there were all these reporters, and... ugh, the paparazzi’s the worst.”

As quick as it came, Prompto’s smile deflates like a popped balloon. Noctis’ stomach twists. He doesn’t even know what he did wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have made it sound like he’s against people who drink alcohol. Or maybe his horrible delivery’s been mistaken for suspicious behaviour and now Prompto thinks he’s definitely a drunkard. Rolling his shoulders awkwardly, Prompto wilts back into his cushioned seat and mumbles, “Yeah, um... those kind of reporters are really bad, pestering people like that... they give _real_ reporters a bad name...”

Oh. Noctis hedges hits bets and checks, “Are... are you a reporter?” He forces a smile so it doesn’t seem like he’s piling on automatic judgment. Of course he knows not _everyone’s_ that awful.

Prompto still turns impossibly redder and admits, “Ah... kind of? I mean, I’ve got a summer job at the local newspaper, but... my real passion’s photography, so it’s really just to get my foot in the door... and I never stalk people for my articles, I promise!”

Somehow, the nervous energy makes Noctis grin. He’s definitely nervous too. But Prompto’s really _cute_ about it and it just makes Noctis want to pat his leg like he’s a skittish chocobo and coo to calm him down. “It’s okay, I didn’t think you were.”

“Seriously, I don’t do gossip column shit—” He cuts himself off and groans, “Shit, I didn’t mean to swear—oh! _Fuck_... Oh dear Six, now I can’t stop...”

Noctis has to bite the inside of his mouth to hold back a bark of sudden laughter. He intends to keep a low profile in the café, but Prompto’s forcing him to smile. “Dude, it’s totally cool, I swear all the time. But like. Don’t tell anyone.”

“Pfft, my column’s literally about video games and chocobo swag, dude. I couldn’t out you if I wanted to.” Prompto lifts a hand wrapped in a cool black fingerless glove to his face and groans again. “Aaand I just called the prince _dude_...”

“Pretty sure I did it first.”

“Yeah, but I am a dude...”

“What, and I’m not?”

“Pffffft, you know what I mean...”

“Do I? I just met you.”

Prompto actually pouts, and Noctis grins even wider. Prompto’s _adorable._

And he’s press. _The enemy._ But he writes about video games and chocobo swag. Which is. Just. Noctis can’t even. If he’d known the paper had a column like that he’d actually read it once in a while. Maybe he will tomorrow. Ignis will flip. 

Ignis told him to be home by four to go over council reports. He forgot about that. He really needs to get his drink and go. He could probably get a decent drink here. 

With Prompto. 

He clears his throat and decides to just _go for it_ , because he’ll probably never get a chance like this again in his life. Sure, he’ll get suitors thrown at his feet and be forced into balls and expensive dinners, but he won’t run into a gaming hottie with a chocobo keychain on his phone, which Noctis just noticed and loves. 

He ventures, “So, since I, uh... kinda crashed your lunch here... how about I give you an exclusive as an apology?”

“An exclusive?”

“Yeah, like, an interview. Just you and me.” He leans across the table, trying to flirt with his eyes and hoping he doesn’t look like a complete idiot. He’s never known if the noble-born fangirls that hang around the Citadel actually think he’s suave or just want to be the next queen. 

Prompto nervously licks his pink lips and quietly counters, “Honestly, I’d, uh... rather have a chance to just buy you a drink.”

Bizarrely ecstatic, Noctis straightens up. He glances back at the menu and decides, “No, lunch is on me, drinks included.”

“Really?” Prompto looks _insanely _happy for a total cutie burdened with a crazed stranger. “Shit, thanks! Oh, except, uh... I was kinda gonna get one of those fancy smoothies, and they’re expensive, so... we should split it...”__

__“Dude. Literally the prince. Order whatever you want.”_ _

__“Oh, I couldn’t—”_ _

__“Tell me about whatever you said about video games in your last article and we’ll call it even.”_ _

__“Well... you ever heard of King’s Knight...?”_ _

__Noctis is going to buy Prompto the whole damn restaurant. But he starts with lunch, which rolls into dinner, and by the time Ignis shows up with a whole squad of high level Crownsguard officers and a glare that says Noctis would be dead if not for GPS, Noctis has Prompto’s number secured in his phone._ _


End file.
